


The Voice In My Ear Will Always Guide Me Home

by quartermasterandhisagent



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mission Fic, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9475730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartermasterandhisagent/pseuds/quartermasterandhisagent
Summary: Q was never going into the field again. He loved his position as quartermaster, and he loved James – truly he did, but the man was a nightmare in the field. He knew that of course, four years into the position of quartermaster of MI6 had seen Q overseeing countless missions for 007 but the past two months had been agonizing.





	1. Could Be Dangerous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justaddgigi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justaddgigi/gifts).



> for Gigi

Q was never going into the field again. He loved his position as quartermaster, and he loved James – truly he did, but the man was a _nightmare_ in the field. He knew that of course, four years into the position of quartermaster of MI6 had seen Q overseeing countless missions for 007 but the past two months had been agonizing.

It was the part of the job he hated the most, and one of the things he loved the best about James in equal measures – Queen and country would always come first, no matter the cost. One day, they both knew it would cost Bond his life and even though he’d made peace with this fact long before his life had much meaning, it still weighed on them both.

The day Bond had gone into the field, Tanner had popped down with a fresh cuppa, and that was enough to make Q suspicious. “What’s happened?” he asked. Bill was a kind man, and someone Q would consider a friend, but he was also a very busy man who was not in the habit of bringing Q tea unless there was some crisis where neither Q nor his minions could be spared for even a few moments.

Tanner frowned slightly, stopping short of resting lightly on Q’s desk. “M’s called in 007. Deep cover, up to six months. I’m sure he’ll be down to tell you himself, but ah—“ He picked up his stack of files where he’d left them, forcing a small, knowing grin on his face “Thought I’d let you know. Appearances to keep and all.”

Q watched as the man quietly slipped out a side door hardly anyone knew was there, and mused over the loss of talent MI6 could have found a use for in the field. Then again, Q thought, it was probably best they keep some closer to home than others.

*              *              *

Bond was not often given deep cover assignments – he tended to ignore protocol, reveal his identity and leave a mess to be cleaned up wherever he went. He was also notoriously impatient, so it wasn’t often that M sent him out in the field for ops which could last weeks, much less months.

The entire walk down from M’s office to the basement where Q’s labs resided he felt a knot in his stomach. It was selfish of him, but he almost wished Monneypenny or Tanner would be the one to break the news to Q. He also knew from the look on Mallory’s face when he first entered, even before he had chance to look at the dossier, that he would have to tell Q himself. It wasn’t as if Bond could slip away unnoticed, when he was married to the quartermaster of MI6. Q had personally outfitted James from their very first mission together, and in return James had made it a point to check in with Q beforehand -- not only because the job required it, but he found it grounding to weigh the risks of each mission. He would still go, no matter the risk to his person, but he trusted Q more than he trusted himself some days. Q would never send him (or any other double-oh agent) into the field unprepared, but he had learned over the years that talking things through often helped them both. For Bond it was a reminder there would always be someone he could _trust_. For Q it meant he had the chance to read Bond, and figure out what he needed most for a successful mission. For him to come home.

He hadn’t needed to announce himself for this mission. Q glanced up before James even had chance to knock on his office door, silently granting permission to enter, without pausing from his drink.

“Q” he said simply, paused only to make sure the door was locked.

“James,” Q sighed, and sank further into his desk chair. James noted the signs that Q had spent more time running his hands through his hair and rubbing his eyes than anything else. He doubted Q had even opened the dossier in front of him, much less read it.

“I’ll have Moneypenny call for take-away,” James had simply said, as he walked over to Q and nudged his chair towards the loveseat in the corner.

Q had only smiled tiredly, and nodded before joining Bond. Curled up under the Afghan tossed in the corner, and wrapped around Bond, Q was out before James had even fished his phone out of his suit coat.

Bond wouldn’t have it any other way. Berlin could wait.


	2. Worth the Wait

It was raining in Berlin when Bond landed, three hours later than his original check in time with HQ. There would have been a time when double-oh seven would have been impatient for his mission to start, and would have loathed any kind of delay, but now he welcomed the opportunity to settle in properly. Mallory wasn’t expecting to hear from him until morning, now that it was well past midnight in London. Q of course was a constant in his ear, whether earwig or a custom encrypted, bulletproof, waterproof mobile.

“How’s Berlin, Double-Oh?” Q asked lightly. In the background, James heard keys tapping out code

“Cold.” James replied cheekily. He glanced first out the window, then at the taxi driver. “Are you still at the office?” He knew the answer of course, but there was only so much they could discuss in the backseat of a taxi, that wasn’t either classified or intimate.

“Have you reached your hotel yet?” Q shot back. James could hear the smile behind the tea mug, so he knew that Q wasn’t cross with him.

“As if you don’t know,” James teased. The taxi driver barely raised an eyebrow, glancing back only briefly before turning his attention back to the Friday night traffic as they made their way off the autobahn and into the city. He relaxed only marginally, having determined there wasn’t a present threat. James wondered idly if he would ever stop being hypervigilant. It was something that kept him alive in the field, but he knew M hadn’t been amiss when she’d suggested he _talk about it_ _once in a while double-oh. It wasn’t like after the war, when fatigue and startling at bumps in the night were wrongly viewed as weakness._

“I’m only making conversation, double-oh. I could easily hang-up and attend to this stack of requisition forms that are due by Monday,” Q threatened, bringing his attention back to the conversation.

“Mmm. I don’t suppose you’re actually _motivated_ to file those bloody things.”

“I’ll have you know Bond, not all of us are able to do as they fancy. Some of us have responsibilities to attend to.”

“A mortgage, and two cats,” James teased, hinting at an earlier conversation that for him was a reminder of all that he’d almost lost in an impulsive, reckless decision. He’d been lost in his head too much, wrapped up in his past and everything that had been set up for him only to walk blindly into a trap. He’d never stop being grateful that Q had been the one to pull him back, full of understanding of his broken trust, and warmth and patience.

“And a husband,” Q added gently.

“Quite.”

*              *             *

Q worried whenever Bond went out in the field. In the months before James’ return pre-Skyfall Q (then R) had taken to fussing over each agent he sent into the field, despite warnings from his predecessor that fussing and worrying was the sure way to an early grave. _Trust your agents_ , _R_. _That lot are some of the best and brightest, and some of the most stubborn. They’ll come back, one way or another._

And he did. He trusted his agents, gave them more credit than their overly inflated egos probably needed. But he still worried, because he cared – not that Boothroyd hadn’t of course, but Q was willing to wager it was a bit different being married to a double-oh, than a Major who’d unwittingly found themselves in charge of arming and equipping all of MI6 after the war. Q did not play favourites in the field, but even he couldn’t deny he had a personal stake in making sure each and every one of his agents came home in (relatively) one piece.

Moneypenny had been by after even M had departed for the evening. His takeaway containers still sat half-empty on the corner of his desk, afghan crumpled in the corner long abandoned in favour of real work. He’d appreciated his staffs quiet understanding that when the door was closed, and blinds were drawn he wasn’t to be disturbed – particularly when James Bond was involved. The quiet moments they carved out in the privacy of his office, the corner of a staff kitchen, at the pub they frequented with Moneypenny and Tanner made the difference every time James crossed the threshold of Q Branch, manila folder carefully tucked under his arm. It was never enough of course, but for now it would do.


End file.
